


On Canvas

by Tvieandli



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:16:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tvieandli/pseuds/Tvieandli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Damian are both artists, and capturing their fancy means being captured on canvas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the fact that in the new 52 both Bruce, and Damian have been shown to be quite artistically skilled.

Having an artist fall in love with him was waking up at ungodly hours to them simply watching him sleep (pencil and sketchpad optional). Dick found that this happened rather often once he and Bruce started seeing each other. He could only speculate how long it had been going on before that.  
In all honesty, with how secretive Bruce was about a good deal of his life, it was a bit shocking to find his art studio (one of the lower security rooms on the ever mysterious sub-level seven). A room filled with racks and racks of paintings, sketches, and all manner of things.  
In them, Dick had found everyone Bruce had ever loved, and everything that had ever captured his fancy. The manor, the cave, Gotham, Selina, Diana, and himself.  
Having an artist fall in love with him, was finding himself on canvas in blue monochromes, sleeping swathed in the giant four poster that resided in the master bedroom of Wayne manor. It was occasionally catching paint on Bruce’s finger tips in the morning as they woke him by stroking down the bridge of his nose.  
But Bruce was so much more than an artist, and eventually that drove a wedge between them. Batman and Robin drove a wedge between them.  
For a long time, Dick thought he’d lost those experiences. For a long time he woke to the ghost of those fingers teasing him from the depths of his memories by not quite running along his nose. For a very long time, Dick missed finding himself on canvas.  
And then he walked into Damian’s room six years later, while Damian was sleeping, and he saw the pictures, some hung on the walls, some stacked on the desk, one on the easel. Many of them of him.  
Sketches and paintings, and charcoal drawings. From Nightwing perched atop scaffolding, and Batman with a slimmer build smiling as he took down a criminal, to Dick Grayson at his most vulnerable moments. One of him sitting on the floor crying. One of him sleeping.  
He walked into Damian’s room, and saw it, and it was like the past was a train he was standing in front of.  
Having an artist fall in love with him was being struck with the knowledge that his ex’s son was head over heals for him. It was waking up once more to the sound of a pencil scratching against soft, cotton-spun paper, and pretending he was still asleep so as not to scare the boy crouched at the foot of his bed.  
It was a throw back to Bruce, only more fumbling and awkward in it’s quest to please. Having an artist fall in love with him was finding himself on canvas in dynamic poses, stretched this way and that as he soared through negative space.  
Damian was distinctly different than Bruce, and so was the nature of his art. But once again, Dick found himself in the same situation. Waking up to delicate, paint-stained fingers stroking down the bridge of his nose.


End file.
